


Iron Coin

by Vaznetti



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaznetti/pseuds/Vaznetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the coins was iron.  A Tyrion & Tysha reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Coin

Tyrion's head is buzzing with wine and victory as he stumbles back to his cabin. Volantis is burning, has been burning for days, ever since the Queen's fleet appeared at the harbour mouth. The bodies of the Elephants and Tigers who once ruled here are lying in the gutters, and their former slaves are feasting in their palaces: Daenerys has, he thinks, become more ruthless since the days when she tried to rule Mereen for all its people. She will not stop to rule here, he knows. They will take onboard whoever is willing to fight in Westeros, and leave.

The swell thumps against the side of the ship: soon, soon, soon. The army is growing, the dragons fly overhead, more ships have just arrived from Braavos with representatives of the Iron Bank, ready to lend the Dragon Queen whatever she needs to retake her throne. What came here will come soon to King's Landing; his foot slips for a moment on the deck as he thinks of it, of the city burning and bodies in the streets. They will be people whose faces he can recognise. Tommen, he thinks suddenly, and stumbles again. What will they do to Tommen? Then he thinks of Cersei, and his feet steady underneath him. He's coming for her, and nothing will stand in his way.

The burning city casts a red glow through the porthole and into his cabin: there is a woman sitting on his bed. He stops, but she rises to greet him as if he should be expecting him. A whore, he thinks, and wonders who is trying to bribe him, and why.

"I wanted to kill Tywin Lannister myself," she says, "but you stole that from me as well."

Her voice is beautiful. He has forgotten how beautiful it is: he can hear the echoes now of the songs they sang at that inn outside Lannisport. Bawdy songs, funny songs, songs of love. Time has made it fuller, richer, but he knows it still. He tries to take a step further into the room but the floor is farther away than he thought and he stumbles to his knees to clutch the fabric of her gown. It is blue, he sees, so dark that it is nearly black. "Tysha-" he chokes out. His voice sounds twisted, ugly, choked with tears.

She drops to her knees as well, brings herself down to his level. So kind, he thinks, she was always so kind. "Tyrion. My husband." She brushes his mouth with her lips and he pushes himself forward to taste her mouth, clutches the bodice of her gown as well: the fabric is so delicate it tears in his hands when she pulls away.

"I never meant-" he babbles. "I never knew, I swear it, my love, my love, I'm so sorry, I swear it, so sorry..."

"Hush," she says. "It's over now."

But he keeps talking. "You lived. I never knew, he never told me. I killed him for what he did to you, Tysha." He looks into her face, willing her to believe him. There are tears spilling from her eyes: he is crying too. "Where did you go?"

She gently wipes his cheek with her fingers. "One of the coins was iron," she says, as if that explains it. "But I am doing this in my own face." She leans forward and kisses him again.

The knife is sharp and cold, sliding through his doublet and into his heart. For a moment, he doesn't understand. "Tysha-" he says.

"Tysha is dead," she says. " _Valar morghulis_."

end


End file.
